


A Job Well Done

by River_Nix



Series: Red Marking [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mafia AU, Assassin Ric Grayson, Assassination, Dick Grayson is Not Adopted, Dick Grayson is Not Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Dick and Ric Grayson are twins, M/M, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence, Prostitute Dick Grayson, Prostitution, Ric Grayson is a Talon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28820670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/River_Nix/pseuds/River_Nix
Summary: Ric and Richard Grayson had come into this world together.They watched their parents fall together.They survived through The Court of Owls together.They must have been destined to stay together.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Ric Grayson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Ric Grayson/Jason Todd, Koriand'r & Jason Todd, Ric Grayson/Jason Todd, Roy Harper & Jason Todd, Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd
Series: Red Marking [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113110
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	A Job Well Done

_ “Please...please, Rickie! Y-you c-c-can’t l-leave me too! Pl-lease!”  _

_ “Never. I’d never leave you.”  _

_ “P-prom-mise?”  _

_ “Heaven and Earth could shatter themselves and I’d still be here for you. I promise.”  _

Ric’s eyes snapped open as the high-pitched voices died out, nostalgia and the familiar warmth that developed whenever he thought of his twin vanishing not long after. He didn’t understand why his mind had traveled back to that day, especially given the task he had just finished. Killing someone was, in no way, an appropriate reminder of who Richard was to him. What their promise that day was to both of them. The only logical explanation was that it was the relief of finally being done that must have sent him back - the reminder that he had someone waiting for his safe return. Someone who had been deathly afraid for him during the last few months or so, not to mention. 

Not that Ric could blame the other. The Joker wasn’t exactly the easiest target to markdown and he’d lost count of how many times he questioned himself:  _ why the fuck did I even agree to this job?  _ The answer was simple, he and Richard needed the money that his employer - Mr. Harvey Dent, he believed? - was offering for the Joker’s head. Yet, even with the cooling corpse in front of him, Ric couldn’t stop questioning how this all went down. It wasn’t the time nor the place to indulge in his thoughts though, so with a hefty sigh, he squatted down and slung the dead-Joker over his shoulder so he could leave. The building would need to be burned when he had the time to properly go through the process of hiding his tracks while leaving a noticeable marking behind, but for now, he just wanted to deliver the body and head home. He already knew that Richard handled the financial part of this agreement, so he’d need to double-check with Mr. Dent when they met up to make sure that he hadn’t been faked out. 

It wouldn’t be the first time and Ric would bet his brother’s life that there would be plenty of other people out there who tried (and failed) to cheat him out when they thought he wasn’t watching. 

The night air was cold against his skin, but he had never been too squeamish about such a thing. If anything, he was thankful for the feeling that returned when his body unwillingly started to shiver a bit as he stood for a few moments. His training with The Court had left him and Richard rather...unresponsive...to certain types of touch. It had its upsides; physical torture had lost a lot of its intended effects, and its downsides; sometimes it left both men feeling a bit too disassociated from their bodies. 

“Let’s get this over with.” His grip on the Joker tightened significantly as he took a leap out of the building window, landing gracefully on the opposite building’s ledge. Certainly, lugging around a corpse on the light streets of Gotham would attract a lot of unwanted attention, but Ric would like to believe that years of being a proper hitman would have taught him a thing or two. The first thing is that he needed to find the next chance to duck into a sewer cavern. Or, whatever those things were called. Underground, people tended to avoid looking into things in fear of what the shadows held and whether or not the smell would cause disease. Ric, himself, had feared the same things for the first few years. Up until he realized how much easier it was to use people’s uncomfortableness with the underground to his favor. 

Plus, he had most of the underground paths mapped out in his head. He’d be able to get close to his shared house without attracting too much attention and could slip in without anyone being the wiser. Which led to the next lesson; packaging. He’d learned long ago that employers preferred the bodies whole so that they could make appropriate judgments about whether or not their hired hitman had gotten the right target. At this point, Ric - Aka, Talon (the one thing he had kept from The Court) - had earned a reliable enough reputation that there was little reason to doubt his work. He had a deadly eye for detail and an even deadlier precision when executing his research or his executions. Everyone who had heard of him and had enough money and sense to hire him knew this. However, Ric supposed that it was difficult to get rid of the habits he had been obeying throughout the entirety of his younger years. When he didn’t have that type of reliable reputation and popularity. 

Navigating his way through the pathways and the water, Ric took approximately 15 minutes and 34 seconds to reach the nearest exit along his street. Sneaking a glance out of one of the openings along the side of the sidewalk, he took great relief in noting that there weren’t many cars driving along. It would appear that everyone had tuckered down for the night, not that he could blame them. The fact that the Joker had been out and about probably prompted many civilians to take shelter in their poorly protected homes, not wanting even the smallest of chances to run into anyone associated with the killer clown. It was to their benefit, really, that Ric had killed the son of a bitch. The police too, now that he thought about it. Quite ironic, considering that they’d probably try and find who killed him now that he was deactivated. 

_ Good luck to them.  _ Ric smirked to himself as he climbed out of one of the holes, dragging Joker out behind him before closing it back up. It was undisturbed to the common eye, perfect for hiding the fact that anyone had been hiding below. From there, it was only a few blocks of roof jumping until he arrived at the right house. The backyard was nothing special, but the fencing was good enough that it shielded his entrance from the neighbors. Not that he could say that they were extremely interested in what he or Richard did, anyway. Anyone who lived in this part of town was guaranteed to have plenty of dirt on them and not involving one’s self was the best way to not get caught up in trouble. 

As Ric entered the house, he noticed that a suitcase and some trash bags had been left on the dining room table for him. If he had to bet, Richard had likely finished up with his own work much earlier than Ric had anticipated and was either waiting upstairs or had to head back out for another ‘appointment’. He would have been here to greet his twin had he been free. 

Not having too much time to wonder, Ric made quick work of balancing the body against one of the chairs while he unrolled a trash bag and prepared it for transport. Cutting the pieces up to make them fit easier would take more time and effort than Ric was willing to put into it, so stuffing the Joker inside once he opened a fresh bag was the way to go. The dude was dead anyway and, while he had proved in the past to have his fair share of strength and wisdom of combat, he was still quite a lanky character. It made folding him up to fit comfortably in the suitcase pretty simple. Not to say that he didn’t look like a broken marionette when inside of the trash bag, but who was here to complain? Mr. Dent never said that he needed the Joker in perfect condition when Ric was done, just that he wanted proof that the target was met. 

Filled suitcase in hand - or, more likely prepared to be rolled along to the garage - Ric made sure to lock the back door before he journeyed to the front. There was no way that the suitcase would fit in the back compartment of his beauty and even if it did, Ric was sure that the balance would be so off that he’d manage to flip backward. And he didn’t need any late-night hospital visits when he was already running low on time for his confirmation time. At the same time, he also didn’t feel like taking a slow-moving public transport vehicle. Maybe a taxi? The place he was going to wasn’t too fishy or unwelcoming, so he wouldn’t need to worry about hesitant drivers or having unneeded attention called upon him. Ah, but then again, he needed his uniform on when he went to meet with Mr. Dent. Mask and everything. It wouldn’t exactly be the easiest thing to stuff his uniform into another bag and then redress before he got to the actual building. 

_ Looks like it’s the hard way then.  _ Ric would have to go on foot with a heavy suitcase. Lovely.  _ Might as well get it done sometime tonight… _

Ric took the same path he originally traveled through to get back to the scene of the murder, which had (unsurprisingly) remained unoccupied as he climbed the various stairs and prepared to jump. He couldn’t say that it was necessarily far from where he had agreed to meet Mr. Dent, but it wouldn’t be a walk in the park either with heavy cargo. By the time he had reached the roof, he was somewhat out of breath already.  _ Just keep swimming.  _ Ric had to hum to himself.  _ Just keep swimming.  _ He was gonna kill someone if this night didn’t go anything other than perfectly. Possibly not the best thing to say or hope for when confronting someone like Harvey Dent, but Ric figured he was somewhat entitled. 

One didn’t take out the Clown Prince of Crime without suffering and all he asked in return was his goddamn pay so that he and his brother could get the necessary amount of groceries and some time to clean up before going to bed. 

Normally, Richard was much better with letting this type of stress roll off of him with that boundless energy of his. Ric? Sure, he had his patience, but even he knew that his immediate reaction to stress was lashing out. As he hopped from roof to roof, grunting as the suitcase dug into various muscles in his body, he had let the adrenaline fuel him further until he had arrived. It was very typical that a crime lord would choose a club to hold a meet-up. There were a lot of exits, entrances, cameras, and oblivious people to use as shields or soldiers if anything were to go down. Though, again, Ric didn’t see as many people as he figured as a result of the Joker being loose from Arkam for more than a week. 

He made his way in through the doorway on the roof, led himself down the staircase, and slipped into the shadows of the hallways as he observed his surroundings. Mr. Dent probably counted him on using the front door, so he could only assume that’s where the escorts were waiting for him. Oh well. He could navigate his way through the VIP area pretty easily, given that armed guards usually stationed themselves in front of the important rooms. Hopefully, Ric would be able to recognize the ones that Mr. Dent carried around with him. 

_ Let’s see... _ It took a few twists and turns, but Ric had managed to get to his destination by the time he had run out of patience. It was only a matter of growling his identity to the men guarding the door before he was allowed in, a sadistic grin pulling at his lips when he heard the audible swallows of the guards. It took forever to build up his reputation as someone not to be fucked with, but man! This was not the first time he found all of the effort, blood, and misery worth it. 

“Good evening, Mr. Dent.” Ric bowed his head lightly as the door was shut behind him gently, the bright lights of the room focused on the ‘boss’. The burned half of his face was always hideous to Ric, but the glare of the light made it a bit more bearable. If only because it made it so white that his eyes naturally wanted to look away in fear of being blinded by the sheer amount of light being filtered there. 

“Talon.” Mr. Dent’s voice was rougher than Ric had remembered, though part of him wanted to blame it on the alcohol. The half-empty bottle in the center of the table and the filled-glass was a dead giveaway to how much the man opposite had drunk. “Lovely timing. Just as your profile boasts of you.” 

“Flattered.” He kept his answers curt as he set the suitcase down in front of him, waiting until Mr. Dent gestured for one of his men to clear the table of anything unimportant. Surprisingly, that included the drink he needed to have one more sip of before leaning forward. Ric took that as a signal to place the case on the table, where he was quick to unzip it and expose the bag. By now, there had to be enough smell of death to cause some flinching as he unwrapped it. However, Ric barely flinched as the Joker’s signature green hair fell out first. The complete opposite to how Mr. Dent flinched away with a disgusted expression - it was almost violent. “I trust that this is enough proof of my success?” 

“More than enough.” Mr. Dent waved his hand, a clear message that he wanted the dead corpse away from his face. Shrugging, Ric was quick to obey and made sure to move away as the same guard who had cleared the table came back to seal the trash bag back up and lift it out. He had to admit, it was nice that they were leaving him the case. It was such a small detail, but for a hitman who had killed more men than half of the crime lords in Gotham combined, it became irritating to have to re-buy appropriate vessels to carry his kills in. “I had the money sent to you earlier. If you’d like to see the confirmation that you’ve received it, then I have time.” 

“That would be nice.” It was cute that Mr. Dent truly had some unimportant secretary to send his stuff was laughable; if not also a bit adorable. Richard may not have acted like him in any way (most of the time) in person, but he had some skills in imitation when it came to digital contacting. He acted as if he were the exact type of person that Ric would find himself being friends with instead of being brothers. Then again, they were twins and they had been working together successfully ever since they were still in the circus. Perhaps that’s what made him a good ‘secretary’ in the first place. 

Mr. Dent was quick to fish out his phone and, presumably, open up his email. The movement of his thumb indicated that he must have been scrolling down until he finally arrived. When he turned the screen around, Ric decided to ignore a good portion of the top half - indicating where the money had come from, its transaction number, and all of that extra information. Normally, he’d want to admit that to memory in case something went wrong and he needed to hunt someone down. In this case, he just needed to see the correct amount near the middle and Richard’s signature ending for emails (in Ric’s name) to be satisfied. 

“Nice doing business with you.” The speed at which Ric turned on his heel to leave the room would undoubtedly leave a mark on the floor, but nobody seemed to care at his lack of a proper goodbye. Just as he arrived at the door, he heard Mr. Dent call out: “One of these days, we must get some drinks together. You have an impeccable reputation, yet you look so young. It leaves a man to wonder what you must have gone through to be so skilled.” 

_ Tsk, if only you knew.  _

Ric was almost concerned with how Mr. Dent was confident enough to say that he looked young (which was a lie, he was 26 at this point). He knew that his mask properly covered his face; he had gone through several trials and errors through the years to create the perfect uniform in order to hide his identity without much struggle. A simple black bodysuit with hidden light armor under it, accompanied by a deceivingly simple-looking grey utility belt and some black boots. The center of his chest held a dark red bird symbol, his killing signature that let everyone know that it was Talon who took the life of whoever unfortunate soul found themselves being his mark. Above all of that, he wore an old brown cloak that he had saved from The Court of Owls and cut up so that it only came down to his waist, like an odd hoodie. It left the mask - one of the most expensive things he has ever had created in his history of being a hitman. It had everything he could need for getting his job done and hiding his identity. Technologically infused, and all. 

“I’m a busy man, I’m afraid.” Ric let slip out as he left the doorway, uncaring of what Mr. Dent’s response was as he closed the door. The guards - originally turned towards him at the sound of the door opening - were quick to revert back to their forward positions as Ric walked past them. Considering how nobody followed him out, he figured that he’d just return home the way he came. It was more tedious, of course, but he could dictate his own pacing instead of having to deal with getting a ride from someone he didn’t want to associate with outside of a business setting. 

The wind did feel nice against his suit as he ran and leaped, but nothing quite beats the feeling of the bare air when he was finally allowed to strip in the safety (kinda) of their home. He was quick to deposit his suit in the secret compartment of their closet, as neither of them ever liked dirty laundry just being thrown around. He could get to it in the morning, it’s not like he had that much blood on it tonight. With everything locked up just how he left it and Richard absent from their shared bedroom, it could only be assumed that his appointment had yet to end. Just to be sure though, Ric made sure to text him before he hopped into the shower. His stomach grumbled as he washed and relished in the warmth of the falling liquid, but he was more than happy to ignore it until the remnants of the night slipped down the drain and away from him for the night. 

Stepping out was a bit of an experience since he forgot to grab a towel, meaning he’d need to get their bathroom floor a bit sloppy before he managed to dry himself. Though, the good news was that Richard had texted him two minutes into his shower that he was heading home “very soon” 

Sure enough, just as Ric got downstairs for some food, the door opened and shut in rapid succession. “Hey, Rickie!” 

The man in question chuckled as his twin latched onto his back, cheek comfortably nuzzled into the warm skin of his brother’s bare back. As identical twins, their height similarities made it a bit awkward for Richard to rest his chin over Ric’s shoulder to see what he was preparing, so the older of the two was compliant in moving to the side so the younger could get a good look. They’d need to find some time to go to the store again for some eggs, fruits, and other basic foods. So, for now, Ric settled on some leftover fried rice that they had gotten take-out for the previous night. It was certainly not as good for them as home-cooked meals, but it worked. 

“How did the meeting go?” Richard detached himself when it became clear that Ric wanted to move, though he was quickly pulled back in when he had achieved the position he wanted. It was always endearing to be reminded that, despite Ric’s hesitance towards physical contact outside of combat, he was more than willing to give Richard more cuddles than he could comfortably ask for. His twin could be a mind-reader at times, not that Richard was that surprised. “Any trouble?” 

Ric shook his head, lip curling up a bit as he took in what Richard was wearing. He understood, more than anyone, that his brother had to maintain a certain look to attract clients. And not just any clients, the types that could actually give them a decent amount for their services. Richard had his charming personality, but without a nice body to accompany it, people could often find themselves turned away from what he was offering. Although, that hardly meant that Ric was alright with how his brother was forced to wear such revealing clothing every night he went in. If anyone had the right to see his brother, to map out the various scars along his back and torso that had been present through their training with The Court of Owls or to admire how lithe and bendy he was, then it was Ric. He was the only one allowed to examine those deeper parts of Richard, just as Richard was the only one who Ric allowed close enough to break through his mental barriers. 

They were twin brothers, they had been there for each other ever since the beginning. Only they could properly understand the other, bare their souls to the world and know they were still safe with one another. 

“Dent was quick and to the point. Just how I like it.” While Ric preferred not to kill his employers, especially big names like Harvey ‘ _ Two-Face’ _ Dent, he wasn’t afraid to do it. Oswald ‘ _ Penguin’  _ Cobblepot and Jonathan ‘ _ Scarecrow’  _ Crane had to learn that the hard way when they both tried to force him into their own little groups instead of respecting his decision to remain freelance. Or, in Scarecrow’s case, he wanted to do some digging that Ric just wouldn’t let slide. “Tried to invite me for some drinks. So, let’s hope that he doesn’t try to push for his sake.” 

“If you kill any more big shots, then the remaining will feel threatened.” There was a playful undertone to Richard’s tone, but the dark glint in his eye revealed how serious he took that warning. It was amazing that they had gotten away with Penguin and Scarecrow’s deaths without anyone coming after him with serious revenge in mind. However, if they killed too many more people (which was extremely possible with how easily-irritated Ric got with those types of people), then they could make some hideous enemies. Not just hideous in appearance like Penguin, but in overall character. “But it’s nice to hear that everything went well.” 

“Mhm.” Ric tapped at Richard’s shirt, specifically, the border at the bottom. Thankfully, this was one of those nights where Richard could get away with covering his midsection and not drive anyone away with being covered. Not to say that Ric still wasn’t bothered since the shirt was practically a second skin with how tightly it was attached to Richard’s body. The shorts were a bit much (which was to say that they weren’t nearly appropriate in his eyes), but they drew attention to one of Richard’s most appealing assets - something that Ric knew his brother was going for. “And you? How’d your session go?” 

“Got a bit rough, but nothing too bad.” Richard waited until Ric loosened his hold before turning around so he could raise the back of his shirt. Along the surface of his tan skin were red lines, some looking dark enough that Ric was surprised that none were bleeding. They weren’t everywhere, thank Christ, but it was still enough to get Ric uneasy. His brother had tried to tell his clients that no marks were allowed to make Ric more comfortable with his chosen way of getting money, but he found that people tended to like it more (aka; pay more) when they weren’t given too many limits. In this day and age - plus their pasts - Ric and Richard had little chance to complain too much in terms of job details. Their reputations earned them respect, but there was only so much that could be pushed. 

“Come on. Food, then we’re washing you.” Ric turned back towards their dinner so he could check the temperature. Just a few more minutes until it was perfect and they could plate it. 

“But...didn’t you just-?” 

“I can deal with the dishes while you wash. Then we’ll finish the night with some cuddling, ok?” 

Richard loved his brother so much. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This will be my first Batman fandom fic, so please be kind with any criticism. Also, feel free to let me know how I do in the comments, I’m trying to branch out in terms of fandoms to write about and get interested in. 
> 
> (I know that Richard is typically called “Dick” in Batman, but I wanted to use his first name for...well, reasons that may become obvious in the future of this series. Plus, it just sounds close to Ric, which I thought fit the whole “twins” idea better.) 
> 
> Other than that, here’s my [Tumblr](https://river-nix.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to message me or find my Ko-Fi info, commissions are still open. Or if anyone wants to donate to support me, anything is appreciated. Thanks, everyone!


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